The Drug Deal
by Cyrus Pemberton
Summary: Frank Castle takes down a thugs during a drug buy. The Punisher a trademark of Marvel Comics


**Punisher Short Story**

**The Drug Deal**

By Adam Langfelder

Timmy Cherino, A.K.A. Timmy C., felt like he was on top of the world. He had the cocaine, the connections, and the balls to make his way to the top. He had been waiting to make this 5 million dollar deal for months. That's the only reason he would ever be at this rundown fleabag hotel, originally called the Parker Arms in the 50s. It's also the reason he and his crew would even be in the East New York section of Brooklyn. Sure, there are nice areas of Brooklyn, but the neighborhood surrounding the old hotel could best be described with two words: **Shit Hole.** No one in their right mind would think to live in this dump. It would be safer to live in Bagdad right now than this place. Everywhere you looked there were abandoned buildings, gutted cars held up on cinder blocks, and tons of garbage piled as high as six feet. Being in this oversized toilet, however, was just a small price to pay for doing some business.

Timmy had come a long way from small time driver to mid level coke dealer. Even his crew looked up to him like he was a Tony Montana in the making; the kind of guy who could make things happen. Cherino loved to think of himself as one bad motherfucker. Right now, Tim was playing it cool knowing that he and his boys were ready with their guns in case anything went wrong, not that anything would happen. After all, he and Ricardo were tight and no one in their right minds would be crazy enough to mess with about ten guys packing heat. Yes sir, it was going to be a good night.

THE BEGGAR IN RATTY CLOTHES made one more pass by the Parker Arms Hotel before making it back to his dark hole in the burned out building two blocks over. At 3 A.M., no living soul was either awake, or living in the vicinity of 12th street and Sutter Avenue. In a few short minutes the silence of the neighborhood would be shattered like a piece of fine china being smashed by a sledgehammer. Once out of sight of the hotel, the bum now walked with a sense of purpose and determination that seemed out of place with his appearance. As soon as he arrived at the black Ford van around the corner, the man began his transformation from a homeless bum to something much more dangerous. Underneath the soiled garments the large man wore a pair of black combat boots and cargo pants as well as a heavy duty Kevlar bulletproof vest and load bearing military webbing. The most important part of this man's look was his black long sleeve shirt. The shirt's main feature was a large white skull on the front.

The man's face did not look like that of a man living on the street. With his black hair combed back, two day stubble growth, healed broken nose and ice blue eyes; he could be summed up with one word: intense. This was the face of a man who has seen death all throughout his adult life, from the hellish jungles of Vietnam as a Marine, to the kill zones of his war on crime. Here was a man who has been killing for a long time and would never stop until his death. This is a life that no man or woman wants thrust upon them; for he has been punishing the guilty for 30 years since that terrible day in Central Park. Here was a man who would not stop until all the monsters were gone. For Frank Castle, otherwise known as "The Punisher," that suits him just fine.

Castle sat inside the van preparing his weapons and his next move. Castle knew that 15 to 1 wasn't a fair fight; but then, he never fought fair either. One of the most important lessons he learned in Vietnam was that when you're alone without any hope of back up, you don't fight dirty, you do things that make dirty look good. Cherino's boys were carrying an assortment of pistols and shotguns, while Nuniez's crew were all strapped with Uzis and Mac-10s. Timmy also had a flashy, custom built .50AE Desert Eagle. Frank already had a plan of attack by the time he left his van.

The primary weapon for the assault on the derelict hotel was a modified Colt 635 PDW. The lightweight weapon looked and felt just like an M4/M16 rifle except that it was chambered to fire 9mm pistol rounds instead of the standard 5.56 NATO rifle rounds. Since the weapon was an M4 variant, minus the carrying handle, it made mounting things a snap. The little sub gun had an electronic reflex sight, collapsible folding stock, silencer and an M203 grenade launcher; making the Colt a dangerous tactical weapon. Castle's back up was a semi automatic Nighthawk Tactical 12 gauge shotgun. The sleek 20 inch weapon was loaded with military grade Frag 12 explosive shells, making it extremely deadly in close quarters. Last but not least, a 1911A1 .45 made by Springfield Armory rode in a leg holster on his right side. The rest of his equipment consisted of ammo, knives, grenades (fragmentation and flash bang), C4 and claymore mines. It was time to party.

"OK BOYS, LET'S MAKE SOME MAGIC," Cherino said to his posse. As they walked to the 3rd floor of the hotel, his crew checked everywhere for anything out of the ordinary. At this time of night, there wouldn't be any cops in the neighborhood. Once they reached the 3rd floor, the gang met up with Ricardo Nuniez and his men. Ricardo was not a caricature of a mobster like Timmy was. In fact, he not only fit the roll of the drug heavy but also was a notorious sadist among his peers, a product of his up bringing in the barrios of Sal Palo, Brazil at the hands of his drunken monster of an uncle. The crimes Ricardo committed since he was only eight have ranged from common thievery and grand theft auto to rape, mutilation and murder. To a walking piece of shit like Ricardo Nuniez, a drug deal was just a walk in the park.

"Let's get this shit over with, ok? I've got an appointment with a whore in an hour," Ricardo said as if he was only waiting for his laundry and not multi million dollar deal. With a motion of his hands Timmy's number two guy, Billy, laid the metal suitcase on the ratty old mattress and exposed the pure white cocaine sitting inside. Nuniez himself brought up the case filled with five million in cold hard cash. So far everyone was nice and happy.

AS THE PUNISHER moved silently out of the shadows toward the vehicles parked in front of the hotel, he noticed one of Timmy Cs boys standing watch outside with a sawn off shotgun. Fortunately, the lookout was facing the hotel with his back to the shadows and Frank wanted to keep this quiet until the last minute. Castle slung his weapon and pulled out a homemade garrote made from a combination of piano and deep sea fishing wire. Castle crept up behind the punk and twisted the wire around his neck while dragging him back into the darkness. The lookout was unable to get the rope off his neck and his grunting pleas for air fell on deaf ears. With a final pull of the wire the lookout was dead and out of sight. Frank continued towards the cars and began his work. First, he placed a 2 pound brick of C4 plastic explosives with a transmitter on the underside of Timmy Cs H3 Hummer parked at one corner. He did the same thing to Ricardo's Mercedes Benz at the other end of the street, effectively creating a large trap. This was repeated with the Jaguar Ricardo's men came in. Finally, Castle placed a series of M18A1 Claymore Antipersonnel Mines at strategic points around the front of the hotel. The results would create a lot of damage, noise and confusion.

Satisfied with his work, Castle crept into the alley between the hotel and another building, keeping the Colt 635 at the ready. His movements were slow and cautious until he saw 4 more of Timmy Cs goons armed with an assortment of handguns and SMGs. The time for sneaking around was now over. As he stepped into the light, one of the goons looked towards Castle, his face a mask of fear and surprise, a cigarette dangling from his gaping mouth. The punk yelled out a warning to kill the man in black, but it was too late for anything else. The Punisher let loose with a series of muffled bursts that sounded like a bag getting ripped. Each punk went down quietly, getting drilled with 9mm hollow point rounds that make quick work of their leather jackets. The last punk did not go down as quietly as he hoped because he involuntarily fired his Uzi into the air with a twitch of the death nerve as well as a scream from his throat. With the silence broken, Castle quickly made his way into the side entrance, hoping that element of surprise was not completely lost.

"Pete, look outside and see what the fuck is going on out there," Cherino screamed. The thug looked outside and saw a large man dressed in black heading inside and four of Timmy Cs boys lying in the alley in pools of their own blood. Pete looked back at his boss looking white as a sheet.

"Boss," he yelped, "Some nut took out Todd, Kyle, Cody and Tucker and he's on his way up right now!"

"Well don't just stand there with your thumb up your ass," Cherino screamed, "get down there and kill him! I'll call the rest of the boys for backup!" Timmy Cs posse was joined by most of Ricardo's personal team, the two of them feeling confident that five strapped guys could handle anything.

CASTLE HAD NO TIME TO RELOAD THE COLT as he entered the hotel, so he switched to his Nighthawk Tactical shotgun. The vigilante moved swiftly through the lobby and was about to hit the stairwell when he heard voices ahead of him. By his estimation, there were about two or three thugs waiting around the corner. They may be tough against shopkeepers and defenseless old ladies, but against Castle, a close quarter's combat expert, these creeps wouldn't stand a chance. Punisher took out a flash bang grenade, pulled the pin and tossed it toward the voices. Right before the flash bang went off in a thunderous clap, he heard someone shout in Spanish. After another two seconds, Frank turned the corner and saw two of Ricardo's boys staggering around trying to get their bearings. Castle was not going to give them the chance.

Bringing the stock of the weapon to his shoulder, he fired a Frag 12 round into the chest of the first punk, throwing him back almost 15 feet; his chest an exploded mess. The second punk went down with a blast to the neck, nearly decapitating him. As Castle got closer to the staircase, another of Ricardo's shooters rounded the corner armed with an AK-47, firing heavy Soviet 7.62 rounds at almost 800 rounds a minute at the vigilante. Castle was forced to dive out of the line of fire while shooting two more shells at the gunman. The first shell went wide, missing the creep by about a foot, but the second shot went right into the gunner's stomach, ending the barrage. Castle got to his feet and checked himself for any damage. He noticed that the barrel of the shotgun was warped from one of the rounds and his Kevlar vest had absorbed one of the bullets. A dull pain in his left forearm indicated he was grazed by a third shot. Castle dumped the weapon in favor of the pistol and made his way past the fallen thug. Suddenly, he heard a moan behind him and turned just in time to put a .45 ACP round right through the man's eye, silencing him forever.

Safe for the moment, he reloaded the submachine gun and continued his path towards his main targets. Once inside the stairwell, Castle came under fire from two more shooters, one of them firing a pump action shotgun, the other one, from the sound of the weapon, a Glock 9mm firing on full auto. Castle opened the breach of the M203 grenade launcher, and with practiced skill, quickly loaded a 40mm M463 high explosive round. Once he heard a break in the gunfire, Frank rounded the corner, sighted the weapon and let the deadly bomb fly. The blast sent the two thugs flying down the hallway while Frank loaded the grenade launcher with a 40mm buckshot door buster round as he moved towards the primary targets.

THE SHOCKWAVE FROM THE GRENADE SHOOK the 3rd floor like a small earthquake. Timmy C ordered his last two men to take out the intruder. The second the two gunners entered the hallway, however, they were cut down with a flurry of 9mm rounds. The silence in the hallway was deafening. The only sound to be heard was that of footsteps getting closer and closer. Timmy C and Ricardo turned white as a sheet when they saw who it was standing just outside the doorway. Every criminal in the underworld knew that this man with the skull on his chest was the Punisher and that he was there to kill them. As Castle entered the room, however, he failed to notice the presence of Ricardo's last remaining bodyguard, Leon.

THE PUNISHER AIMED THE COLT SMG at the pair of drug dealers, ready to blast them to hell and back when suddenly, a pair of hands the size of welding gloves wrapped around his neck like a vise. Castle could feel the muscles in his neck straining against the force of the thug's hands. While he fought the giant's grasp, Timmy C and Ricardo took off out the window and down the fire escape. Castle had to take this walking 6' 10" mountain down fast or all of this would be for nothing. Forcing himself to his feet, he let the Colt SMG drop to the ground as he unsheathed a USMC K-BAR fighting knife from his web belt. As his vision started to blur, he rammed the knife deep into Leon's left leg and then twisting it so the wound wouldn't close. The bodyguard screamed like a girl as he let go of Castle's neck. Leon's scream was cut short when the Punisher drove his knee into the thug's stomach, driving all the breath out of his lungs. Recovering quickly, Leon put his entire 310 pound frame into a strong right hook but Castle dodged the blow, grabbed his arm and broke it at the elbow. Before Leon could scream in pain, Castle punched him in the stomach, followed by a knee to the groin and a wicked right cross that knocked out two of Leon's teeth and sent him sprawling to the floor. Satisfied with his work, he retrieved the Colt and made his way to the window but quickly dived out of the way of a salvo of heavy caliber rounds. The bodyguard was firing a large barreled silver revolver as fast as he could. But his injuries and his bad temper made him a lousy shot. As soon as the weapon clicked empty, Castle rose up from cover and blasted the bodyguard with the grenade launcher. The 40mm 12 gauge round pounded through the thug's chest like a freight train and Leon fell to the ground like a pile of laundry. A deputy medical examiner would later say that the hole in Leon Cardozo's chest was the size of a basketball.

"WAIT FOR ME, YOU ASSHOLE," Nuniez screamed as Timmy C ran for his miserable life down the fire escape. Once on the ground, the drug dealer looked back just in time to see Ricardo spasm with the impact of three rounds from the Punisher's .45. Cherino's hopes went through the roof when he saw the rest of his crew show up in their Land Rovers. Timmy C screamed to his men.

"Get in there and kill that skull wearing piece of shit!!!" As eight men jumped out of the cars with AK's at the ready, the nine men looked up toward the 3rd floor fire escape and saw the vigilante holding a small box in his hand. It was a detonator.

The blasts from the claymores and the C4 shook the whole area for four square blocks. Everyone and everything that was in the kill zone was either thrown like rag dolls from the concussion blast or shredded like paper from the thunderous barrage of shrapnel that peppered the area at high speeds. The area around the hotel after the blast looked like scene from a horrific war movie. Cars looked like they were spit out of a grinder. Bodies and pieces of bodies were strewn about riddled with fragments or even imbedded in walls or car husks. Only Timmy C was still alive, barely. Cherino's legs were shredded and blown off at the knees and his body was covered with cuts and bruises. Castle calmly walked up to the two bit drug dealer who was trying to crawl away dragging bloody stumps and aimed his Springfield .45 at him.

"Why are you fuckin' with me," Timmy C choked out amid a stream of blood. Frank Castle fired one round directly into Cherino's face, erasing much of the features, turning it into a gory crater. Timmy Cherino twitched like he had been shocked and then was still. The Punisher answered the corpse with a voice as cold as the grave.

"Because you're scum. It's really that simple."

The End


End file.
